


Other ways of keeping warm

by heathtrash



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff, Winter, Winter Markets, carriage ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21647446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heathtrash/pseuds/heathtrash
Summary: Hecate and Pippa are attending the Pentangle’s Academy Yuletide Market
Relationships: Hardbroom/Pentangle (Worst Witch)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 62
Collections: The Worst Witch Winter Warmers 2019





	Other ways of keeping warm

Pippa’s hands smoothed the fabric of Hecate’s cloak over her shoulders.

“You’ll need something warmer than just this. It’s several degrees below zero out there, you know,” Pippa chided Hecate, opening her wardrobe to draw out a woven container of neatly folded winter accessories, and started rummaging through it. The empty suitcase under Pippa’s bed may have contained most of what Hecate had needed for her stay at Pentangle’s, but a sudden arctic front had been one thing Hecate had not anticipated.

“There are other ways of keeping warm.” Hecate raised an eyebrow.

Pippa giggled, and unravelled what looked like the least Hecate Hardbroom-like fuzzy pink scarf she could find, before looping it over Hecate’s neck and pulling gently down. Hecate smirked and leaned downwards with the pressure around her neck to marry her lips with Pippa’s, feeling Pippa’s hand release the scarf and ease up her chest to let her fingers caress the tight hair at Hecate’s nape.

“I did mean— a warming spell,” Hecate said, catching her breath as she drew away from the kiss for a moment.

Pippa looked back up at her, biting her lower lip and smiling coyly. “Isn’t this magical enough for you?”

“We had better make our appearance,” Hecate said, a colour tinting her nose that had nothing to do with her makeup. “Everyone will be wondering what is keeping the headmistress of Pentangle’s from her own Yuletide market.”

“And what’s keeping her?” Pippa responded, teasingly.

“Nothing important,” Hecate said, her hand tracing down the back of Pippa’s tailored pink wool coat. “Just a minor distraction.”

Pippa’s eyebrows raised softly. “You’re wrong. You’re the _most important_ distraction.”

Hecate bowed her head in abashment, but Pippa’s hand lifted her chin again. “Don’t you dare hide those eyes from me, Hiccup.” She raised herself on her tiptoes and kissed her lips with a longing that made Hecate feel an ache in her throat.

“Pippa, you’re going to make us late,” Hecate muttered, while barely resisting. Pippa kept kissing her until Hecate drew away from the intoxication of her lips. 

“Oh, but— would it be so bad?” Pippa pouted, her fingers tracing patterns over Hecate’s ears.

Hecate pursed her lips but could not help the smile from the effect Pippa was having on her. “I would quite like to enjoy the market while we still have daylight hours,” she mused.

“Wait, just— one more—” Pippa insistently cupped Hecate’s jaw.

“One—” Hecate murmured, giving into the playful spark in Pippa’s eyes.

Pippa stepped closer into Hecate’s body until their bodies were touching. One kiss became two, and then three, and then—

“—Pippa, please,” Hecate said breathlessly, with a hint of impatience barely surfacing over her desire to drown in Pippa’s kisses.

Pippa sighed, withdrawing and letting her finger play with the barest wisp of hair in front of Hecate’s ear that always defied being scraped into her bun. “I suppose you’re right,” she replied, answering Hecate’s tone with one of reluctant concession.

Hecate noticed the fuzzy pink scarf still around her neck as she found her awkward frame into the vanity mirror, and arched an eyebrow.

“You know you look positively adorable in pink, but I’ll admit the outfit demands something with a touch more sophistication,” Pippa said, taking the scarf back from Hecate, who was dangling it from her long black nails as if it were an offence to her very person. “I don’t have much in dark colours, but I’ll see what I can find.”

Pippa dug through the box. Hecate thought she could see a large black fur item, but realised that it was just Pippa’s familiar Pepper, who had nestled into the box at some point when they had been otherwise engaged. From amongst the various Pippa-coloured items, navigating cautiously around Pepper’s bulky form, Pippa unearthed a black cable-knit rectangular shawl, which she wrapped around Hecate’s neck lovingly, before finding a pair of gloves with silver-tipped fur cuffs and a hat with a pompom in the same faux fur.

“My witch’s hat will suffice,” Hecate said stiffly, putting on the gloves, but shooting a scathing look at the pompom.

“You’ll be cold.” Pippa frowned and her eyes widened in an appeal Hecate knew she would not be able to deny. “Please?”

Hecate inclined her head in deference. Pippa lifted the hat over Hecate’s bun, and made sure the folded brim covered her ears. Hecate knew she had to look ridiculous, but she was aware that she would never have made it out of the castle without Pippa insisting on some other option that was even less to her taste.

For herself, Pippa produced a white furry pillbox hat, and a deliciously soft wrap to match, which she draped elegantly around her shoulders. She looked like a queen, Hecate thought, her chest filling with admiration, even if she herself was more the queen’s jester—Hecate was merely glad Pippa kept her in her court.

“Shall we?” Pippa asked Hecate, her hand twining in the white fur expectantly.

Hecate gave a demure nod of her head, and edged cautiously out of the door, glancing about the deserted corridor, somewhat embarrassed to be seen exiting the headmistress’s personal chambers.

“How do you feel about PDA?” Pippa asked quietly, as they descended the staircase to the main entrance. At Hecate’s confused look, she elaborated, “public displays of affection.”

Hecate cleared her throat as she finally processed what that implied, taking another quick look around the entrance hall to ensure they were not being overheard. “Personally, I would prefer for the students and staff from our respective schools to refrain from gossip. I find the less the students know about my private life, the easier it is to hold their attention.”

Pippa nodded. “Best to keep it discreet for as long as possible. I’m not ashamed of us, or want to hide it as such, but— this might not make a good deal of sense, but I like having a little secret that’s just ours. It makes everything more daring and exciting. It’ll be hard not to hold your hand, but it’ll just mean we have to make up for it later with plenty of cuddles and kisses.”

Hecate’s hand almost instinctively twitched towards Pippa’s at this last, but they had just stepped out of the secluded entrance hall out into the stark, cloudless light. The mischievous look in Pippa’s eyes caused her to swallow as she contemplated the cosy night ahead of them. Already her palm felt empty; she had not fully pieced together the reality of not being able to hold Pippa’s hand all day, and instead tucked her gloved fingers against her wrist, feeling the absence but looking forward to enjoying the market—even if it was to be at a distance from the woman she adored.

The grounds of Pentangle’s were gorgeous in the morning sun; the light cast long shadows across the neat grass lawns, melting patches of frost that were still glazing the earth in a sugar-white crust. Hecate would have liked to have offered her elbow for Pippa to link arms with her, but as per their agreement, refrained from doing so, and merely followed along beside as Pippa led the way down the courtyard to the inner gates.

Pippa had forbidden Hecate to peek at the market when she had arrived last night. Hecate had originally thought it a silly idea that she had nevertheless acquiesced to follow for Pippa’s sake; now she was seeing it for the first time, she could see the merit of Pippa’s request.

It was spectacular—the whole area was covered in decking, and there were dozens of stalls styled like a village—wooden buildings laden with garlands of pine with tiny golden magical berries winking like bright stars. Painted signs hung from each stall in red and green lettering boasting of their wares. Groups of children in Pentangle’s uniforms and their parents milled around, garbed in cloaks and knitwear against the frigid temperatures, laden with purchases and hot food and drinks that sent clouds of vapour into the frosty air.

Exceedingly popular was a sweet stall, at the centre of which stood a mighty gingerbread castle, decorated with intricate icing, over which was a flying three-dimensional dragon sculpture made entirely from spiced biscuits, a witch’s hat perched on one of its horns, followed by a trail of witches whizzing about after it on broomsticks. Students of all ages marvelled at the dragon as it beat its wings, and swarmed around to watch the witches pursue the dragon—presumably to attempt to retrieve the stolen hat. To the left of the castle, in gorgeous paper bags patterned like lace doilies, were stacks of peppermint and rose and orange creams dipped in hard, shiny chocolate. On the other side of the castle, from what Hecate could make out, they had every type of fudge one could imagine, from apple crumble to tiramisu. 

Hecate was just trying to imagine how Eton mess would translate into fudge when her eye fell upon the next stall, which had a number of vast cheese wheels sealed in many colours of wax—crunchy Davidstow, creamy Caerphilly, sweet white stilton with ginger—Hecate salivated at the thought. If the rows of chutneys and preserves in octagonal faceted jars were not equally as inviting, there were also bottles of clove, nutmeg, cinnamon, and orange-infused liqueurs and wines for adults and spiced cordials for the children. 

“Anything that catches your eye?”

“Perhaps,” Hecate admitted in a low voice so that only Pippa could hear, “but mainly just one.”

“I can’t imagine what you mean,” Pippa replied playfully. “The gingerbread castle?”

Hecate exhaled sharply through her nose in exasperation.

A few young students clustered around the wishing well-shaped structure in the centre of the circle of food stalls. As they drew nearer, Hecate could see that in the wells, in place of water, were fires, and the children were holding pillowy marshmallows on skewers over the fire to toast them. Hecate felt sure this was an Ordinary tradition, since it was one with which she was not familiar, and mentioned this to Pippa.

“You’ve never had a toasted marshmallow?” Pippa said incredulously.

“I think I would recall the experience if I had,” Hecate returned dryly. 

“I’m sure toasted marshmallows were a chief staple of my diet in my childhood before I was sent off to boarding school and we had to suffer school dinners at Cackle’s. What did you eat when you went camping?”

Hecate raised her eyebrows. “I have never been camping.”

Pippa’s mouth twisted in amusement as she tried not to laugh at Hecate’s expression. “Perhaps you’d care to try it sometime?”

“Only on one condition,” Hecate said, sweeping away from the fire pit towards a stall stacked with old books.

“And what would that be?” Pippa asked, her insatiable curiosity quickening her sharp steps over the decking, struggling to keep up with her companion.

“Later,” Hecate muttered with a side glance at her companion, before blinking the impish mystery out of her eye and investigating a red leather-bound tome.

Pippa had to persuade Hecate away from the books before she became too lost in them, and steered them towards a stall that seemed to be run by students bearing the Pentangle’s crest on their purple waistcoats. In place of their traditional witch’s hats, they wore soft, floppy hats with white trim and pompoms that jingled whenever they moved, and were all wrapped in velvet cloaks with more white fur trim (Hecate sensed a pattern). It became apparent why Pippa had to make a visible presence at this particular stall—displayed on the table was a selection of arts and crafts that the students of Pentangle’s had made, from painted wooden decorations to jars imbued with light spells. 

Pippa made a show of examining the broomstick and quill charms, showing them to Hecate, who sensed the obligation for encouragement and did her level best to appear interested for that which she had very little enthusiasm, particularly when she was starting to feel cold, despite being bundled in Pippa’s knitwear. The candles, allegedly infused with all the spices of the season, were marginally more diverting, as were the ink bottles with inks in a variety of festive colours that purported to have different scents. 

The students even had a pink ink in their selection, which Hecate was certain did not count as a specifically festive colour, but was clearly intended as an homage to their headmistress’s favourite colour. Hecate could not help but point it out to Pippa, who gasped in delight as she read that it was enchanted with a ‘pink iced doughnut’ aroma.

Her duty complete, Pippa gratefully smiled at Hecate, whose intrigue led them to a stall shrouded in a darkness spell, hanging all around with foliage beaded with jewels of magical ice, such that Hecate and Pippa had to push aside the prickly fronds to see the wares on offer. Through the gloom, in the light of glowing fungi growing over the walls and table, they could see whittled wooden mushrooms and carvings of magical creatures who seemed to make the wood itself come alive. The witch in attendance looked so old that her nose was practically drooping over her mouth. Hecate’s imagination was captivated by a particular piece—a cat putting her paws up onto a cauldron. The ancient witch gestured with a gnarled hand of knotty joints for her to take a closer look. The tiny planes of hand-carved cuts on the bowl of the cauldron caught the dim light as she turned it. 

A touch against Hecate’s lower back beneath her cloak made her stiffen in surprise; Pippa had discreetly put her hand there while watching her inspecting the carving. Hecate assumed that Pippa must be bored, so she put the cat down and thanked the witch for showing them her wares, before exiting into the startling light with Pippa in tow. While she appreciated the craft that had gone into the carving, Hecate could never buy anything for herself when it had no function. 

As they left, a glorious bouquet of hot and spiced wine met Hecate’s nose before she saw the stall from which it originated. Below cheerful pennants hanging from the eaves of the stall’s roof, great cauldrons of dark wine and golden cider shimmered fragrant mist into the air. The magical fires beneath flickered festive colours, occasionally shooting gold and silver sparks. 

“Would you like some mulled wine?” Pippa asked, seeing Hecate shivering.

Hecate nodded, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Some mulled wine would be most welcome.”

Pippa handed over some change and bought two mugs for the both of them, and pressed one into Hecate’s hands, letting her hand rest over Hecate’s for a few moments too long to be accidental.

“Do you have it?”

Hecate’s breath bloomed in the crisp air, dancing together with the vapour from the steaming mug of mulled wine. She replied that she did with some reluctance, and Pippa withdrew her hand. As recompense, Hecate buried her face into the mulled wine, noting with pleasure that it was not too sweet for her; it was heady and boldly spiced, with just the perfect amount of citrus to compliment the full-bodied wine.

“You have a little—” Pippa began, and then took her glove off to rub her thumb over Hecate’s lower lip. Hecate could have kissed Pippa’s thumb, were it not for their decision to be discreet with their affections. Thus far, Pippa was doing a terrible job of complying with that, Hecate thought, her cheeks burning with the mulled wine and frustration of her own proclivity for following instructions too closely.

A tempting smell wafted over from a stand selling fresh cinnamon-sugared doughnuts—yet even without Pippa’s nudge, Hecate caught sight of—for she could hardly miss it—an enormous black horse in a gold-embroidered red coat harnessed to a red carriage decked in tinsel, with wooden spoked wheels, a line of gold inlay around the rims. Hecate had had no idea what she had been expecting from the winter market as a whole, but she did not know why she was surprised that carriage rides were being offered as a part of the event—after all, Pentangle’s had a horseriding course as an option for its students.

A witch with long black hair in a single thick plait, in dark pine-green robes with white fur trim, raised her hand to her forehead and nodded a greeting to Pippa as she approached. Hecate was almost too absorbed in the gentle dark brown eyes of the horse to pay attention to the witch with whom Pippa had struck up a conversation. 

“Hecate, this is my stable mistress, Jo Juniper,” Pippa said, shaking Hecate from her reverie and making her remember her manners.

Hecate hastily introduced herself, giving Miss Juniper a formal salutation.

Miss Juniper returned the greeting. “Well met. He’s very gentle.” She indicated the horse with a tilt of her head. “Name’s Arthur. He loves to be patted on the head, if you’d like to.”

Pippa watched them both with a smile, snuggling into her luxurious fur.

“May I?” Hecate asked Miss Juniper, who nodded.

Hecate took off her glove to pass her hand over Arthur’s head, delight in her eyes as she felt him leaning into her touch, nosing her hand in search of treats. At Pippa’s bidding, Jo gave Hecate a sugar cube. Hecate held it in her open palm for the beautiful horse, and his lips folded over the treat, tickling the sensitive skin of her hand.

“Hecate,” Pippa said, leaning closer to her, “do you want a carriage ride?”

The question took Hecate aback. She had thought that the entertainment was purely for the students and their parents. “Can we? Is it allowed?”

Pippa grinned and tapped Hecate on the nose. “Of course it’s allowed. I’m the headmistress, and that means that within reason, I can do what I like, with whomever I want to. And right now I want to take a carriage ride with Miss Hecate Hardbroom, Deputy Head and Potions Mistress of Cackle’s Academy for Witches. If she will humour me.”

Hecate blushed and ducked her head. “I will,” she said, her voice faltering as she uttered the words. She hoped beyond hope that Pippa would understand the meaning that she imparted with those words.

Pippa glowed. “Thank you,” she said, leaning close and kissing her cheek. The kiss stung cold on her skin, but inside she could not have felt warmer.

Hecate could hardly believe her own protest at something she had been craving since they had left Pippa’s chambers, but still she hissed, “I thought we—”

“Cheek kisses are perfectly innocent,” Pippa muttered under her breath, and winked amidst a bundle of white fur.

Miss Juniper assumed her position at the front of the carriage, taking the reins and keeping Arthur steady while her passengers alighted. Pippa offered her hand to Hecate to assist her up the step into the back, where a tartan wool blanket awaited them on a comfortable cushioned seat. Pippa hoisted herself up with ease, which Hecate noted, clearing her throat to disguise her admiration of Pippa’s athleticism.

“I would love to be driving the carriage,” Pippa remarked to Hecate as she arranged the heavy blanket over their knees, and further drawing it up around Hecate, for whom the cold had started to penetrate the shivering, “but then I would not be able to sit back here with you.”

Pippa edged closer to her, on the pretence of arranging her cloak. Their thighs met under the blanket, and then Hecate felt the tug of material as Pippa’s hand went in search of hers. The carriage began to trundle forward just as Hecate felt Pippa’s fingers on her glove, which she slipped out of discreetly to let her fingers lace with Pippa’s, and pressed her palm into Pippa’s reverently, savouring the feeling of finally being able to be close.

The carriage began its gentle journey around the vast area surrounding Pentangle’s. Jo took them through the centre of the market, where students waved at the sight of their headmistress in her stylish wintry hat. Pippa had to free her right hand from Hecate’s grasp to wave back. Hecate stared awkwardly ahead, certain that waving from a carriage was outside the realms of her expertise and dignity. Fortunately, the route through the market was brief, and soon they were on the path out of the outer gates.

Pentangle’s Academy was not on the summit of the mountain, and was thus not nearly as exposed to all four winds as was Cackle’s; it was nestled in the foothills, close to a river that wended its way northwards Cackle’s and passed not far from a cottage on its grounds. It was much more hospitable and aesthetically pleasing an environ to take a carriage ride around than Cackle’s would have been.

Jo Juniper paid little attention to her passengers once she had confirmed with Pippa the route they would be taking, saying that it would take them about fifty minutes for the round trip back to Pentangle’s grounds. Pippa sighed happily as she settled her head against Hecate’s shoulder. The crystal white fur of her hat tickled against Hecate’s cheek in a surprisingly pleasant manner.

They drove along an avenue of spidery trees of a deciduous forest with branches stripped back of leaves; their bark glowed gold in the low-angled streams of sunlight thrown across the countryside. While they could not say anything without being overheard by their driver, Hecate and Pippa enjoyed their quiet companionship, simply sitting together, stroking each other’s hands underneath the blanket, while the wintry landscape rolled past them. Arthur’s hooves clopped steadily on the paths as the trees gradually gave way to a valley amidst the gently sloping foothills of the mountain. Pippa would occasionally point out landmarks and haunts that she enjoyed riding to whenever she could, but Hecate’s attention was mostly on the sensation of Pippa’s body curled up to her own. The bright golden flecks in Pippa’s eyes that flashed in the low sun—the feel of Pippa’s hand delicately brushing against her inner wrist, sending her into quivers of pleasure—for that moment, this was all the language that Hecate needed.

Yet their fifty minutes were over all too quickly—the wrought iron gates in the shape of a pentacle came into view, swinging open magically when Jo cast her hand out towards them.

In their last moments of privacy, Hecate bent her head so her lips were close enough to kiss Pippa’s ear beneath the furry hat, and whispered something.

“I love you, too, Hecate Hardbroom,” Pippa whispered back, and kissed Hecate’s cheek. Hecate turned her head towards Pippa to see her own longing reflected in Pippa’s eyes—and unable to help herself, kissed her deeply on her precious lips.

They sat in rosy-cheeked silence as the carriage took them back to the Yuletide market. After thanking Jo, Pippa alighted first from the carriage, and put her hand up for Hecate to descend. Hecate, stiff from sitting in the same position, stumbled slightly and tripped right into Pippa’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Pippa said, letting Hecate steady herself against her.

“You always have,” Hecate replied, breaking into a smile, with her eyes filling with tears of pure distilled joy. “And you always will.”


End file.
